


shards beneath our feet

by pomegarnet



Category: Hamilton- Miranda
Genre: First Meetings, Galas, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Modern Era, after parties, bad sex jokes, prompted fic, they literally start making out at the afterparty cause I have no self control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomegarnet/pseuds/pomegarnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't help but stare, but once he diverts his eyes he doesn't notice the other man staring at him as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shards beneath our feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [versiailles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/versiailles/gifts).



> this was a request by aj!!!! i'm so sorry!!!! 
> 
> prompt was: Lams + 26/Confessions
> 
> title is from team by lorde.

Laurens has no idea why he decided to attend the gala. It’s high end for the ‘ _important people_ ’, the rich or those with connections to the rich. His ill father wanted him to go to ‘ _represent_ ’ him or some bullshit like that. He’s planning on getting hammered at the afterparty.

The gala’s at some high end place in the city, draped in chandeliers and lights and silk and velvet. The attendees hoard inside the room and briefly glance back at the photographers and paparazzi.

Laurens hauls himself over to a seat near the bar, just in case he needs to reach over and swig a drink. He straightens out his tie and his eyes dart over to the speaker on stage. The guys blabbing about some shit about celebrating and remembering and John can’t find it in himself to give a damn. He snaps his fingers to gesture the bartender over; puts up three fingers for three drinks, to get him drunk and to keep people far away from him.

He tries to focus back in on the speaker, who's mentioning something about some attendees arriving late, one of the nominees and their crew having some difficulties in traffic. John doesn't think much of it.

Three minutes and three drinks later, he’s mingling around the ballroom, chatting with people. He flirts around with some men, gets in a brief argument with some asshat, buys a drink for someone who looks like she’s having a horrible time and talks to her.

“My fiancée is late to the gala, like,” and he can tell from the use of like that she’s lived on the west coast once in her life, “she’s with one of the nominees because she wants to be elected when she's old enough, but I’m just worried.”

He gets her another drink after that and goes to watch the musicians on stage.

The musicians are playing classical music, yet it's eerie, as if it were the accompaniment to a ghost folk tale, or an opera. It sends shivers down Laurens’ spine due to the chill of the--

\--The music stops, and he realizes that it is not the music as the announcer hurries up onto the stage. John turns around and observes something; the traffic stopped.

A group of people-- six men and one woman--walked in, unaffected by the room’s uncanny silence. The seven of them walked down the aisle, yet one of them caught Laurens’ eye, the one who moved like he owned the room, the man with the unmatchable charisma. John finds himself staring at the man, and diverts his eyes seconds before the man stares back at him. The speaker says some things about them, but John can’t find it within himself to care as he staggers towards the bar for another drink.

He downs the drink in no time flat, intoxication wrapping around him as if it were a blanket or coat. He drinks another.

“Would you like for me to take care of that?”

Laurens looks up at hearing that gorgeous and silky voice and it's the man from before, and he can’t help the way his cheeks flush looking at him. He’s so fucked.

The man sits on the open stool next to him. “Pardon my interruption,” he starts, his tone is unapologetically and unintentionally lustful, cool and sharp, “I saw you while entering the room. How was the music performance? I missed it due to time.”

John attempts to regain some form of comfort; crossing one leg over the other and taking a sip of his drink. “It was haunting.”

“You seem like you don’t want to be here.” the man says with teasing eyes.

One of John’s eyebrows perk up at that, he smirks and puts his drink down, “Was it that obvious?”

The man chuckles, covering his mouth, “Very.”, he extends his arm out, “Alexander Hamilton.”

Laurens’ hesitates for a moment, before taking Alexander’s hand, “John Laurens.”

“The senator’s son?”

“In the flesh.”

“How intriguing and charming. Were you born in the South?”

Laurens’ eyes squint at that, he always felt that there was an obvious answer to that question. “Yes.”

Hamilton puts a drink to his lips and drinks, puts the cup down and inches towards John, “You don’t have an accent? Or is it not evident?”

John flushes at that question, “I hide it.”

“Ah.”

There’s a pregnant pause between the two, both men lost in their thoughts.

“I'm assuming you’ve been in the city longer than I have--” Alexander starts the conversation again, but is cut off

“-- Where are you from?”

“It’s not relevant,” he continues his original sentence, “Do you know where the afterparty is?”

John nods at that, “It starts at 9:30 for people who want to leave this place early.”

Alex glances down at his watch, which shows the time; 8:46 pm and sighs. “Do you want to dance?” he proposes.

John perks up at the mention of ballroom dancing, there’s a certain nostalgia carried with the idea of swinging around a room with someone. “Do you lead or follow?”

Alex scratches the back of his neck at the mention of that, “I only learned how to lead” he admits sheepishly.

John uncrosses his legs and leans closer to Alex. “How tall are you?”

“5’9 and a half.” He confirms

John glowers at him, scrunching his nose, “You’re half an inch taller than me.”

“And how is that a bad thing?” Alex asks, “You get to be the little spoon.”

“Who said we would be cuddling?” John smirks at the idea of Alex believing that.

“We could do that and more later, if you wanted.” Alex teases, and his eyes light up at John’s blush.

John coughs away the hot red scarlet on his cheeks. “We should leave for the afterparty now.” He stated.

Alex smirks at that thought, “Do you not want to dance with me?”

John grins back at that, “Do you want to be stuck in traffic?”

Alexander’s grimaces at that, standing and offering John his hand, “Let’s go.”

Laurens takes his hand, then interlocks their arms together as they stride out of the room.

They arrive at the afterparty at 8:57 pm  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After parties are always wild.

The blaring lights, the different tastes and drinks, the screams and giggles, drunken kisses and awkward dancing and the drunk let out smiles and screams or solemn studies of themselves and society, and it feels as if the entire room is dancing to the heartbeat of its guests.

Some strut across the room after having fallen in love with lust, looking for a good time. Others were just enjoying each others company.

Laurens and Hamilton are too busy getting hammered and kissing one another's faces off to attend any of the events.

John ends up straddling Alex and kissing along his jaw. He pulls back and giggles, “You’re so fuckin’ cute man.”

Alex pulls John closer up on his lap, carrying him in his arms, sucking a hickey behind his ear, on his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, “I know, laurel.”

John beams at the nickname and peppers kisses on Alex’s head, and in between pecks he says “Do you wanna dance, babe?”

Alex cradles John in his arms, and attempts to pick him up twice, despite failing miserable on his first try. He pulls the boy on the dance floor, and they are not even dancing in a proper way or to a rhythm, they’re just holding and hugging and _clinging_ to one another and spinning around.

The both of them eventually get extremely dizzy, falling back towards a wall. Alex pulls John against the wall for a sloppy kiss.

Alex clutches onto John’s hand, cradling them like a prize and caressing his knuckles, which are adorned with some scars. He closes his eyes and brings them up to his lips, and he can feel Laurens blush at that action. He removes his lips and still holds onto John’s hand, gazing into the others eyes. “I have a confession.” John stares at him when Alexander says that, his expression reading confusion and interest.

Alex swallows a bit, “I really,” he pauses and takes John into his arms as a point, “ _really_ , like you.” he confesses

John giggles into his neck at that, “You’re so corny, babe. I also have a confession; I really want to do this again.”

Alex smirks at that, “It can be arranged. I’d also really like to do this again.”

John grins at his response, not in a charming way but in a lustful way, “Good!” he proclaims.

They stand in eachothers arms for a while, little giggles and chuckles making way out of their mouths. John brings his mouth up to Alex’s ear and whispers, “I’d also like to confess that I really want to see your bed.”

Alex drags him to the car.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The next morning, Alexander wakes up to a major hangover, stained sheets and his laurel in his bed next to him.

Alex starts thumping on his back and shoulders to which a sleeping John’s response is a moan.

“I’m not giving you a massage, babe. Wake up.”

John turns to face Alex, wiping away at his tired eyes. “Mornin’.” He says

“Good morning,” Alex replies, “How was last night.

“My ass hurts.”

“That was the goal.”

John smacks Alex with his pillow in annoyance. Alex grabs the pillow and hits him back, but it doesn’t phase him.

“That wasn’t a hard enough hit.”

“Do you want me to hit you like last night?” Alex teases.

John rolls his eyes and takes the pillow back and lays it under his head once again. He glances up at the ceiling and stares. He knows what he has to say, but he isn't aware how he should phrase it. He twiddles his fingers together, clasping and unclasping them. He inhales and exhales, “What about us?”

Alex slithers closer to him and snakes an arm around his shoulder, “What about us?”

“Are we a thing?”

“Do you want to be?”

A pause.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> that was Something.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm on tumblr @garnetcomets and if u were to be So Pleased come talk to me!!! prompt me stuff (not now im swamped With prompts but Another Time)
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


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